Oh Lately It's So Quiet
by fancyjules
Summary: Ranger’s POV, immediately following Lean Mean Thirteen.  As I closed the door behind me and put my keys on the small counter, I thought my apartment felt more than quiet tonight – it felt empty.  Like something was missing.  Babe fic, COMPLETE.
1. Oh Lately, It's So Quiet

**Title**: Oh, Lately, It's So Quiet  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Word Count**: 1681  
**Pairing/Charcter**: Ranger/Stephanie  
**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Janet Evanovich. I'm only borrowing for fun.  
**Summary**: Ranger's POV, immediately following _Lean Mean Thirteen_. As I closed the door behind me and put my keys on the small counter, I thought my apartment felt more than quiet tonight – it felt empty. Like something was missing.  
**Spoilers/Warnings**: up to _Lean Mean Thirteen_ just to be safe  
**Author's Note:** Influenced by OK GO's song Oh Lately, It's So Quiet. I even borrowed the title :)

_Oh, lately it's so quiet in this place - you're not round every corner. Oh, lately it's so quiet in this place - so darling if you're not here haunting me, I'm wondering... – OK GO_

By the time I got back to RangeMan, it was late. Very late. It had been a long day, tiring both mentally and physically, and the only thing I wanted more than sleep was ten – maybe twenty – minutes alone with a certain blue eyed brunette. I had some … _frustrations_ I wanted to work out.

Since I knew that wasn't in my future, I took the elevator to the fifth floor. I checked in with the control room but it had been a quiet night. This was a nice follow up from the afternoon, since the afternoon could be categorized as hectic -- if your definition of hectic includes having your heart stop in your chest several times. I was just glad Stephanie's the luckiest person I've ever met, bar none, and even with her forgetting the pen transmitter, the afternoon stayed at hectic and never got upgraded to deadly.

Of course, the latest escape meant no more RangeMan patrol on her - for now, at least. I was under no illusions that this would be the last time I needed to protect her. I knew my men were probably relieved it was all over – Binkie definitely so, especially after an evening in the cemetery with Steph and Lula – but I knew where she was and **who** she went home with and that didn't put me anywhere _near_ the vicinity of relieved.

I did some paperwork in my office, some soft classical music on in the background. The music was relaxing and not at all distracting, which was more than I could say for my thoughts. In the absence of any real threats on any parts of my business, I checked my e-mail and returned some long overdue phone calls. They were business – they're always business – but the mundane tasks and organization helped ease the worry and stress of the past week out of my body. I've hid it well but the truth was I'm not as unattached as I would like, as I should be, and there was only so many panicked phone calls or close encounters with flamethrowers I could take.

Tanks poked his head in around midnight. "Never ends, huh?" I wasn't sure if he meant the paperwork or Stephanie.

"No," I said. "It never does."

"Everything squared away with Stephanie?"

"Yes," I replied evenly. No emotion. Just the way it should be. "She went home with the cop."

Tank was silent. The music filled the conversation lull and Tank glanced at the papers spread all over my desk. "Ranger, man, go home."

I shot him a look.

Tank held up his hands in front of him, in a position of surrender. "Ok, ok. My shift's done, I'm outta here. Lula's waiting for me," he grinned and I gave him an almost smile.

"Anything I can do for you before I go?" Tank asked in a last ditch effort and man, was that a loaded question. I shook my head no.

"Enjoy your evening," I told him and this time I was really smiling. Tank and Lula. Who would have thought?

Stephanie, I decided immediately. Stephanie probably wasn't surprised.

And just like that, any concentration I had was out the window.

I filed the paperwork in the appropriate cabinets in my office, powered off my computer, and took the stairs up to my apartment. It was quiet, something I'd always reveled in after a long day. Just me after a day of watching my back and going for my gun at the slightest sound. As I closed the door behind me and put my keys on the small counter, I thought my apartment felt more than quiet tonight – it felt empty. Like something was missing. I didn't spend a lot of time here – I didn't spend a lot of time anywhere, honestly – but it was the closest place I had to a home. I've never bothered to get attached to anywhere I've settled; ever since leaving the Rangers, I've realized a bed is just a bed, an apartment's just an apartment. No use hanging pictures or decorating if you're not going to be around to appreciate it.

But lately, it had been more than that. Like I've noticed the silence more. Or maybe I've noticed the way there's no clutter. No clothes on the ground. No shoes by the couch. No discarded dishes in the sink or half-drank water bottles on the island. Most of this was due to Ella because that's what I pay her for but – how much of it was my fault? How much of it was my decision to keep people at arm's length?

I thought briefly of Julie, thousands of miles away with her mom and stepdad, me just a guy who sends a card on her birthday or, more accurately, the guy whose life got her kidnapped by a nutcase. Did I make a mistake there?

I sighed and shook my head. _Don't go there Carlos,_ I warned myself, as I took off my shirt and walked into the bedroom. I stopped in the doorway and looked at the bed. I had a flashback to a few days ago when I had gotten home late from doing paperwork and had found Stephanie in bed, dressed only in my t-shirt and panties. I'd slept good that night, I had to admit. And I liked coming home to someone, though I'd never admit out loud, even under pain of death. I was a lone wolf, I wasn't supposed to want to come home to someone. I was Batman, saving Gotham in the dark of the night.

Batman.

Stephanie.

I liked coming home to Stephanie.

I groaned and shucked my pants. I fell onto the bed in Stephanie's so-called "thinking position". To be honest, it wasn't helping me think. My imagination was on overdrive tonight.

I imagined coming home to Stephanie every night, the light spilling onto her small frame in my big bed. I imagined her slowly waking up, blue eyes big and sleepy, hair wild on my pillow. I saw the way her hands would tighten around the sheets as I kissed her, the way she'd moan my name against my lips. Then I changed from imagining to cold hard facts: I remembered the way she had moved against me, picking up my rhythm and changing it just enough to drive me crazy. The way she had twisted underneath me, the way she had flushed pink before she shattered apart in my hands. Then I remembered the flash in her eyes when I told her to repair her relationship with Morelli. And then I imagined her with Morelli right now, kissing his face, twisting his sheets, flushing under _his_ hands.

"Fuck," I swore softly and got off the bed. I went into the bathroom and took a cold shower. I tried to distract myself by thinking about what I had to do tomorrow. My meetings, my business, my skips. Anything but Stephanie. Missions I'd almost died on, men that hadn't returned, the things I did back when I didn't have much of conscience. It didn't work.

Stephanie Plum was haunting my thoughts. It _always_ came back to Stephanie.

After I was clean, I padded out to my small living room. I turned the television on to some random ball game, just needing the noise in the background. It was so damn quiet in the apartment.

As I stared at the television, unseeing, I thought some more about Stephanie. I was way past the point of no return. Nights like this always ventured into a place in my brain I studiously avoided. Always after she had come close to dying, come close to leaving me. I'd been haunted by her for months after I found her in the small, cramped space at Stiva's house.

Sometimes, on nights like these, I pretended I could give her what she needed: unrestricted love, the option of a family, a man (husband?) who was around to support her desire to fly. Sometimes I methodically identified our problems and came up with solutions to solve them, to make my fantasies reality: allow her more emotional access. Include her on the inner workings of my day to day operations. Make her train with one of the guys, force her to be better with her gun and fitness. Occasionally, I ran conversations we could have through my head, saw myself surprising her with trips to the Caribbean, a new pair of shoes, birthday cake.

Sometimes, I even ate the cake with her.

Tonight, my thoughts kept returning to her time spent here. She's stayed with me for a few days at a time on a couple different occasions now and I always felt different after she left. Like I was just getting used to something and it got taken away from me abruptly. I'm a solitary man by nature. I don't do serious relationships, just lots and lots of flings and one night stands. Even my marriage hadn't been a serious relationship, not in the true sense of the definition. Sharing a close space with someone like Stephanie –someone not related to me by blood - was foreign to me. And yet, thinking about her toothbrush on my sink, her shampoo in my shower, her peanut butter in my kitchen made me feel mellow, not threatened.

It was slightly disconcerting to realize that I enjoyed cohabiting with Stephanie just seconds before I realized that Stephanie was off cohabiting with someone else.

_It's your own fault_, I told myself crossly. And it was. And the worst part was that despite all my rationalization and pretending on lonely nights, I was no closer to fixing anything now than I was immediately after sleeping with her. The entire situation might even be worse – that night was supposed to get her out of my system, once and for all, but instead, I now knew what I was missing. And what I wanted. And not a clue as to how to realistically get it.

When I finally fell asleep, it was fitful and short. For once, the quiet wasn't what I needed.


	2. Just As Quiet When I Leave

**Title**: Just As Quiet When I Leave (2/3 of the Quiet Series)  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Word Count**: 2016  
**Pairing/Charcter**: Ranger/Stephanie  
**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Janet Evanovich. I'm only borrowing for fun.  
**Summary**: Ranger's POV, immediately following _Lean Mean Thirteen_. Part 2 of 3 of the Quiet series, follows Oh, Lately It's So Quiet: the first time I was aware that I was no longer just business Ranger or street Ranger was right around the time I realized Stephanie Plum wasn't going anywhere  
**Spoilers/Warnings**: up to _Lean Mean Thirteen_ just to be safe  
**Author's Note:** Ask and ye shall receive – that's how it goes, right? Not only did y'all get a sequel but y'all got a story arc. They'll be one more Quiet story to follow this one – I hoped to get across another side of Ranger in this one. I'd love to know what you think!

_You may hate me, but I'll remember to love you. Goodbye - don't cry - you know why? It'll be just as quiet when I leave as it was when I first got here. I don't expect anything – Quiet, Rachael Yamagata_

There was a time when the only reason anyone called me was for business. Calls about job requests, jobs pending, jobs past. No one called about anything but business -- because that's all I was. There was little to no personal Ranger. He didn't exist. There was business Ranger, predator Ranger, street Ranger, with-the-family Ranger, sexual Ranger – at the girl of choice's place, never at mine – but there was no personal Ranger.

I never had the desire to _be_ personal with anyone. Sure, some of my guys saw me off the clock. Same with my family. But they didn't seem to know me. They were always a little wary – I could see it in their eyes. Always a little unsure of who I was, who I could be. I never gave them much of a reason to end their speculation. I was a lone wolf, just another stranger to those I was with almost every day.

The first time I was aware that I was no longer just business Ranger or street Ranger was right around the time I realized Stephanie Plum wasn't going anywhere. Of course, that's who drew personal Ranger out of me. And while I firmly believe I have absolute control over my life, sometimes personal Ranger would get the best of me and dole out little tidbits that could be deemed dangerous in the wrong hands. Like when I told Stephanie about my daughter. I went home that night and wondered what the hell I was thinking. I hardly knew her at the time. And hardly anyone knew about Julie at the time. And later, the whole friggin' nation would know about Julie and Stephanie would be one of the few that wasn't surprised.

She still doesn't understand what an important group she was a part of.

Since then, I've allowed her small insights into my life. I've told her about Celia and about my scary Grandma Rosa. I'll be the first to admit that I absolutely keep her at arms' length but she's privy to things about me that hardly anyone else knows. She's not my best friend in the way that Tank is and she doesn't know what makes me tick in the way my brother Alec does but there are times when she looks at me and I swear, she can see my soul.

I still don't know how she managed to make me … human. That's really the only way I can describe it. If I had to guess, it would probably be the little things she does. Like the messages she leaves on my answering machine. I saved her "are you ok?" message for months after the Ramos situation. I laugh out loud at the occasional "you're nuts" message I get when I'm trying to protect her. I try hard not to smile when she tells me to get a grip at odd hours of the night because there's a man outside her door.

Tonight, I was the man outside her door. I was fed up with all the personal calls to my cell phone. From everyone. RangeMen, street informants, Connie. I hated that I was no longer business Ranger when it came to Stephanie and 95 of Trenton knew it. Apparently, the latest break-up between Stephanie and Morelli had the markings of being permanent and everyone in Trenton wanted to let me know.

It wasn't that I wanted her just for sex, although that's what I'm sure everyone else thought. I also wanted her for her intelligence, for her humor, for **her**. It was just that I didn't know how to convey that to her and make us stick. We were two different breeds of people, like oil and water. Always floating nearby, never mixing. She didn't know how to shut down parts of herself and I didn't know how to open up.

And, ok, fine. The sex was damn good.

I told her once to go back to Morelli. She followed my advice as best she could but I also had told her that I was an opportunist. I planned on following my own advice as far as she'd let me tonight.

She was curled up in a blanket on her couch, watching Ghostbusters like a zombie. The break-up was already two days old but I still searched her cheeks for tell tale signs of tears. I found none and instead, received a small smile as I shucked my shoes by the door. I sat down next to her and put an arm behind her, along the couch's end, not touching her. She snuggled into me, like I had hoped, and kept watching the movie.

We didn't speak until the credits were almost done and a clock ticking was the only sound in her apartment.

"What's up?" she asked me.

"Just wanted to see how you were," I answered and it was a half truth.

She shrugged. "Fine, I guess. It's been a long time in coming."

I stayed silent, the blue screen illuminating her face with an eerie glow. I flashed back to a few weeks ago, when I was alone in my apartment after the Dickie debacle. I had thought about her and us and imagined things I could say to her, to change the way we were. Now, she was right in front of me, single and waiting, and I couldn't think of one thing to say.

Stephanie started tracing patterns on my bicep, soft barely there circles that did not go barely noticed by my body. I placed a hand over hers. "Be careful, babe," I warned and there was an edge to my voice.

Her hand dropped.

We sat in silence for a few more minutes. She turned from leaning her back against me to facing me, sitting cross legged on the couch, still wrapped in blankets. "Why did you make that deal with me? The one night deal in exchange for helping me with DeChooch?"

The question was out of left field and left me speechless. I was torn with simply not answering and answering with a flippant answer when a small part of my brain urged me to answer honestly. I was aware that this could be a first step to rectifying all the problems I had identified between us a few weeks ago, the first step towards both giving her what she needed and getting what I wanted. It scared me.

"Honestly?"

Stephanie nodded.

"I thought it was the only way you'd actually go through with it and sleep with me. We'd been dancing around it for so long, I thought if it was in your face, you'd either accept it or run far away. It wasn't my finest hour," I told her and I meant it. "And then, I thought after we finally got the obvious attraction out of the way, we could go our separate ways. Be done with it."

"You told me to go back to Morelli," she accused. "Was that all part of the plan? To do me and be done with me?"

"Yes." I saw the flash of hurt in her eyes, the way she shrunk back from me slightly with just one word. "I can't give you what he can. What you need. I've always known that."

"What do I need?" Stephanie asked, her eyes narrowing. I recognized this as a major warning sign that Hurricane Stephanie was on its way but I was in far too deep now.

I listed the things I had drafted in my mind weeks ago. "A stable home life, unrestricted love, the option of a family." I left out the bit about a man who would allow her desire to fly. I was already that guy.

"Why can't you give me these things?" her voice cracked and naked emotion danced across her face. There were so many emotions there I was not used to seeing on anyone's face when they looked at me. Love, trust, desire, apprehension, fear. None were a surprise to me but very few were deserved of me. When I didn't answer her question, she continued. "Why can't you give me these things because you _want_ to? You do want to, don't you?"

I sighed, hating the words that were spilling out of my mouth but having no earthly power to stop them. "My life is extremely dangerous. There's no guarantee I will be alive in the next five years to support you or a family. I'm a private person and I have a very hard time opening up to people, letting them in to my life. I've done horrible things in the past that would make your stomach turn. Believe me, you're better off with someone like Morelli." _Excuses, excuses_ I told myself. _You're doing it again._ And suddenly, I was extremely angry. And I wasn't sure if it was with her for forcing me to confront these issues or myself for making them issues.

"You, of all people, should know better than to tell me how I'm better off." She spoke with cold fury and climbed out of the blankets and off the couch. She was wearing a pair of short shorts and a cotton tank top. I felt my body react immediately.

I followed her towards the bedroom. I stopped her at the threshold, holding her arm like a vise. "Don't make this harder than it already is Stephanie," I told her in a low, dangerous voice and now I knew. I was mad at myself for being unwilling to try.

"I'm not making this _anything_, Ranger. As far as I can tell, you seem to have it all figured out." She took a ragged breath, her eyes cobalt with anger. As I watched her lips part, getting ready to verbally flay me, I felt something inside of me snap. I pressed my lips against hers harder than necessary, my tongue angrily seeking entrance, my teeth nipping at her bottom lip. She hesitated for less than a second before flinging her arms around my neck and bringing us flush against each other with a passion that almost knocked me backwards.

I walked her blindly to the bed and had her divested of her clothes in a second. I wasn't giving her a chance to stop this or my brain time to catch up and realize this was a Bad Idea. It felt so good to be this close to her after months of imagining. Her hands were everywhere, touching, stroking, kneeding. My control was at a very fine line.

Her bedroom was deathly quiet, with the exception of Stephanie's heavy breathing and low moans. As she thrashed on her sheets, I drew her to the edge and watched with lidded eyes as she flushed pink under my skillful hands. It was exactly as I remembered and not something I'd forget for a long time.

When it was all over, Stephanie fell asleep curled into my side. One hand was tucked into her chest, the other possessively across my chest. I laid there next to her for a few minutes, relaxed and boneless, listening to Rex run on his wheel and Stephanie's even breathes.

Slowly, the fury I had felt at myself returned. Stephanie had handed me a silver platter of ways I could fix everything between us tonight and I had simply returned it with the same excuses I always had. This was the golden opportunity I hadn't known how to find a few weeks ago, the beginning of a long future with the only person that ever haunted my quiet apartment, and I had let it slip through my hands because I was all thoughts and no action.

Because I was a coward.

Because I had finally found someone who made me vulnerable and I was unable – no, _unwilling -_ to allow someone that kind of power over me.

Because business Ranger always won.

I untangled myself from Stephanie, ignored her sleepy sigh of protest, and put all my clothes back on. The only sound I heard was a roaring in my ears as I left her apartment.


	3. I Will Not Go Quietly

**Title**: I Will Not Go Quietly (3/3 of the Quiet Series)  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Word Count**: 1986  
**Pairing/Charcter**: Ranger/Stephanie  
**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Janet Evanovich. I'm only borrowing for fun.  
**Summary**: Ranger's POV, immediately following _Lean Mean Thirteen_. Part 3 of 3 of the Quiet series, follows Oh, Lately It's So Quiet and Just As Quiet When I Leave.  
**Spoilers/Warnings**: up to _Lean Mean Thirteen_ just to be safe  
**Author's Note:** Last story in this brief trilogy. I hope this one lives up to the last two and to the characters of Ranger and Stephanie. Thanks for all the kind words everyone's given the arc.

_I'm strong enough to be weak. I see all these heroes with feet of clay whose mighty ships have sprung a leak. And I want you to tell me darlin', just what do you believe in now? I will not go quietly – I Will Not Go Quietly, Don Henley_

One of my favorite times of the day was sparring with Tank in the gym. There was nothing like the quiet of the ring, the stark concentration, the adrenaline pumping into your veins. Tank was the only one who didn't hold back against me. He wasn't afraid to punch my lights out if I was being careless and would administer his own special brand of advice through jabs and cuts. It was like Morse Code to my soul.

I always felt better after the bruises starting showing and the cuts burned red against my skin.

Tonight, I could tell Tank knew where I disappeared to last night and what had happened. And if he knew that, he also knew how I had slunk back into the building in the middle of the night. And how that could only mean one thing - that I'd fucked it up, again. He knew it. I knew it. And he knew I knew. But he wasn't going to say anything – never had, never would. Instead, he got particularly aggressive with his moves tonight, added a little something extra as he connected with my shoulders and jaw and stomach in a way that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.

I was grateful though. It was a time out from the rollercoaster that was my relationship with Stephanie Plum. The energized fighting allowed me a mental escape from last night, allowed me to concentrate on something other than Stephanie's angry posture and soft curves. I would hurt tomorrow, I knew, but at least the physical pain would heal with time. The emotional pain I'd inflicted would just fester until it ate away at me.

There was a remedy, of course, and I knew where to get it – I just wasn't sure _how_. Even when it was staring me in the face, I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't know how to get what I wanted and combine it with the lifestyle I've always had.

Eventually, Tank let me go. I'd like to pretend it was the other way around but these sessions, I'm on Tank's time. I took a long, cold shower in the gym locker room. I could've just gone up to my own shower but I wasn't in the mood to be pampered. I was punishing myself.

Once a soldier, always a soldier.

While in the shower, I thought about last night and the way Stephanie's skin had glowed in the moonlight. Her eyes had stood out like a cat's in the inky almost-darkness, bright blue orbs that looked directly through me. Stephanie knew enough about me to recognize when I was putting up walls and even as we exchanged angry words in her living room, she had done her best to get past them.

She'd gotten the furthest of anyone I've ever known, baring Tank but that was in a completely different way, but even after everything, I couldn't seem to destroy them.

I wondered how she'd act towards me now. If she'd still come to me for help and just simply pretend she hadn't laid her cards on the table (_why can't you give me these things because you _want_ to?_) or if she'd ignore me all together. Neither option appealed to me and I realized that I had lost Stephanie Plum forever last night.

I'd always known, somewhere in the back of my mind, that this was inevitable. Sure, I let myself dream but I always knew it was exactly that – a dream. Even when it was right in front of me, like last night, I couldn't really grab a hold of it. Couldn't let myself believe. She had always been my light, so bright against the darkness of the job and the solitude of being the lone wolf. It didn't seem fathomable that she'd settle with me.

Right now, after all was said and done, I guess the best I could hope for was that someday, she'd think of me - maybe years from now - and remember me fondly. That she'd move on, put me in the past, but maybe, she'd take something of me wherever she went. That someday she'd eat a big, fat, greasy cheeseburger and smile because _that stuff'll kill you babe_.

I'd told Stephanie once that there was no price for what we gave each other, either financially or emotionally. And some of that was true. I'd never charge her for my time or my cars or my protection. But I'd cost us both emotionally. I'd done my best to stay distanced but I'd given that up a long time ago. I was just in denial about it. To be honest, I'd never truly considered how deep the feelings went on her side. I knew there was sexual attraction and curiosity and loyalty but there had always been Morelli.

But last night, I saw it in her eyes, as I moved against her. I heard it in her sleepy sigh as I left. The price had been paid, whether I liked it or not, and I'd probably never get a chance to settle the score.

I dressed slowly in the locker room, in no hurry to go back to my apartment. I wore a pair of old gym shorts and no shirt. I left my hair loose and wet. As I left the locker room, Tank told me to enjoy my evening, which I found strange but I was too lost in my own thoughts to figure it out.

It all made sense the minute I stepped into my apartment. I've always found my apartment to be my sanctuary, but tonight, this wasn't my quiet place. It was my battleground.

Stephanie was sitting on the couch in the living room, her hands folded on her lap, eyes seeing straight ahead. She turned when I walked into the room and her eyes narrowed.

The control room had deliberately not informed me of this development. Someone was going to have a very bad week.

"Stephanie," I said carefully, crossing the room and grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. My back remained to her and I fought for control of my emotions. I hated that she could come onto my turf and turn everything upside on me. Just by her presence.

Which was proof that I clearly had not learned anything in my time around her. Her presence always turned everything upside down.

But even more than that, I was surprised. Surprised and pleased because her presence meant she was willing to fight me. Maybe even fight **for** me.

"Ranger," she replied just as carefully, getting off the couch and coming over to lean against the island. She was casual in jeans and a t-shirt and her hair was in a ponytail. She looked perfectly at ease except that her body was a tightly coiled spring, ready to be unleashed at any minute. I knew I had what it took to make her purr like a kitten but I also knew she'd probably cut off my hands before I could get that far.

She cleared her through. "Once upon a time, Joe Morelli told me something I wasn't prepared to here. He told me he didn't like me hanging out with you because you looked at me the same way he looked at me. At first, I thought he meant that you both looked at me like I was lunch. And I mostly ignored Joe's comment because I thought it was just him being an Alpha Male. But Joe recently said it again. He said, sometimes when you thought no one was looking at you, that you looked a little green when you looked at me, like you maybe were going to be sick. I got really pissed at him because that's an awful thing to say about someone but he said it was the highest compliment because that's how he felt sometimes. He said – it was _love_."

She looked at me, daring me to disagree with her, but she had me there. I'd seen the look at tapes from the Rangeman video, from surveillance photos. I just didn't think anyone else recognized the look. Clearly, Joe could recognize the type of love only Stephanie Plum could instill. And clearly, Stephanie recognized this as the type that came without restrictions. The kind I had never told her I felt.

She continued when I didn't say anything. "Except then you go and do things like last night. You make me angry with you and you lie to me – you lied don't _even_ deny it – and, this is the worst part, you sleep with me and you **leave**! In the middle of the night! And that's not love, Ranger. That's not even something you do to a friend. That's something you do to a one night stand that you don't plan on seeing again. And I won't be someone that you don't have the decency to tell the truth to. Or someone you fuck when it's convenient. I won't be your toy, Ranger."

I sucked in a breath. This might just not be a battle, this might be a war. "And?"

Stephanie eyes were flat and hard. "And I'm here to tell you this is it. You either tell me what last night was really about or I leave. You tell me your lifestyle doesn't lend itself to relationships again, I'm done. It's like three strikes and you're out, you know? I'm giving you a shot here."

I didn't need her to tell me. By all accounts, she should have come in here and slapped me. Not given me another chance. Something in me shifted without warning, all that thinking and non-action finally crystallizing into a sort of blind faith that made the words spill out of my throat before I knew they were there.

"Here's the thing," I started, throwing her words back at her. "I've always been alone. I've never done relationships. I've never lived with a member of the opposite sex, excluding Rachel, and you know that story. I've never gotten attached to anyone because it's easier to keep someone distant than it is to let them in and be vulnerable and lose control. It's not right but it's what makes me do things like leave you in the middle of the night because your apartment was so fucking quiet and you were so damn perfect next to me. You're not a toy. You're not, Babe. You're … everything. And the truth is, after you leave here, I miss you. All the time."

I held my breath, waiting for her reaction. She was silent for a bit before Stephanie smiled at me brilliantly, reached over and grasped my hands in hers. "That's funny," she whispered, leaning in to almost kiss me. "Whenever I leave here, I always go back to my apartment feeling like I'm missing something."

She pulled me closer and kissed me. Really kissed me. I guess I had given her the right answer. We still had a lot to work out but it was a start. Maybe I wouldn't be too hard on whoever was on deck in the control room.

I woke up the next morning and found Stephanie's clothes in a scattered path from the kitchen to the bedroom. Her purse lay on the small foyer table, her shoes on the floor near the couch. She was singing at the top of her lungs in the shower – before I joined her and made her sing for a different reason.

My apartment got turned upside down overnight. It was suddenly messy and noisy and no longer just an apartment. I didn't have to worry about Stephanie haunting my thoughts without her being right next to me or that strange feeling I had when she left because she wasn't going anywhere.

I knew I'd never crave the quiet again.


End file.
